so ends this day
by Wannabe Darklord
Summary: At the end of the Avengers, Loki gets the last laugh and the end that he craves. [TW for suicide and major character death]


**A/N:** I wrote this fic 4 years ago and then completely forgot about it. I also forgot where I was going with it. The only thing I'm certain of is that I meant it to be much longer. However, I don't particularly feel like continuing it (at this point it feels like beating a dead horse and I already have other fic ideas tangentially related to this concept that I'd rather write) and this felt like a good stopping point, so I just polished it up a bit and called it a day. As always, comments are greatly appreciated :)

* * *

The sounds of the Chitauri outside abruptly died away. An odd quiet settled over the city, none of the previous noises of destruction reaching him where he lay. The throbbing in his head was gone, snapped like a twig when the portal had closed.

Loki let out a shaky breath. It was gone. He laughed, uncaring that it jostled broken ribs. It was a harsh, jagged sound. He was still here, still alive, despite the beating from that beast ( _why hadn't it finished him off?_ ) and the war he'd brought down on his head. Groaning, he moved to his side, clutching his ribs instinctively.

The Avengers would be here soon and he would not meet them on his back like a wretch. He was not defeated, not yet. He would not let go of his purpose so easily. Not with the Chitauri and their master at his heels, not when they'd already forced him from it. It would take them a while to regroup from this loss, but best to not tempt fate. He'd gotten too far, seen too much, _felt_ too much to give up on his designs now.

The Avengers, when they came, were neither subtle nor quiet. But Loki paid them no heed at first. Let them think him too preoccupied with his injuries. He would not give them the satisfaction of flinching at their presence like a whipped cur. He would get it right this time, without the link driving him into an agonized frenzy when all he wanted was for everything to _stop_.

He pulled himself up to the step that divided the back of the room, gritting his teeth to hold back a scream. The beast had utterly ruined his knee, cracked his spine and actually snapped his femur. Nothing he couldn't fix at any other time, but exhaustion snapped at his heels. He had not gotten any sleep since...had he gotten any sleep since the fall and the void and the dark? While the Chitauri whispered their desired payment to him for fishing him out of it? Had he ever slept at all? Before the blue hide that had shattered his entire life, showed the lie beneath the glittering fool's gold? He could not remember.

One of the Avengers shifted and Loki finally feigned awareness of them.

They were tense, weapons out and ready to beat him into submission if needed. His Hawk looked very prepared to release the arrow that was pointed at his head. Loki felt a grin stretching his lips. He shuffled, gasping a bit as he pulled himself up more. The only decision now, of course, was whether to act immediately or wait until the All-father proclaimed his sentence. By the laws of Asgard, there was only one sentence he _could_ give, but Loki would not bet on Thor not interfering ( _would moth- Frigga care?_ ) or Odin deciding on something more sadistic. Loki was tired of pain.

Resistance it was, then.

"If it's all the same to you," he said, looking at each of them in turn. Barton would be the most obliging, he thought and focused all his attention on him. He tensed, not missing the way the Widow reacted, "I'm afraid I'll have to decline your hospitality."

"Loki, no!" Thor boomed, hand outreached as though to stop him from running, Mjolnir lifting. Loki lunged forward instead, snarling.

Pain shot through his whole body as his shattered knee and femur failed to hold his weight and he stumbled, cursing. Barton had already loosed his arrow. Exhausted and aching from the beating the beast had given him, Loki was too slow in catching it. It slipped through his fingers and slid into his throat. At point blank range, even his thick hide could not deflect it.

He fell to his knees, nerves screaming in agony. Blood started gushing from his leg where his broken bones had torn an artery and sliced through the skin. His chest felt like it was full of knives. His next breath was a wet gurgle. He couldn't breathe. Hand still at his throat, he fumbled for the arrow shaft. This would work, it _had_ to work.

"No!" The sound was very faint to his ears. Already, blackness was encroaching on his vision.

Finally, his fingers found the metal sticking from his throat. He grasped it and pulled. His blood sprayed out, splattering all of them.

He raised his eyes to the Avengers, his bloody grin meeting their astonished faces. They looked frozen, except for Thor, blundering Thor, who looked ready to weep.

He rattled another breath as Thor quickly rushed to his side. Too quickly. Loki managed to grab the front of his armor and trip him.

They fell back, the stair behind him crushing his back even more as Thor's weight bore into him. Thor's elbow drove into his chest, pushing the broken ribs further into his lungs. Two more cracked under the pressure and his broken vertebrae ground together.

It hurt, it hurt so much. But Loki laughed, feeling himself choking on his own blood. It sprayed against Thor's face, a slash of red against his brow, dripping across his cheek. There was so much red everywhere. Loki lifted a hand up to Thor's neck, his limb feeling unnatural and heavy.

Red was a good color on Thor.

With a noise like a wounded animal, Thor shifted off of him. He was saying something, lips moving frantically. Loki couldn't hear anymore. It didn't matter. Wetness splashed against his cheek, blood and tears mingling.

His clumsy fingers tried to wipe the tears from Thor's face, leaving more streaks of red behind. He pulled at Thor's hair, much like he had as a boy. It was so hard to breathe, but for Thor, who he could now admit as his brother, he would try. Old grievances didn't seem to matter so much now, not when it would finally be all right, finally _end_.

But only blood spilled past his lips when he tried. He couldn't draw in the breath he needed, throat too full of blood to speak. Instead, he clutched at Thor's neck, the way Thor had done times beyond counting to him.

 _It's alright_ , he tried to convey. His lips wouldn't move, _It's alri-_

* * *

Loki's hand fell.

Thor's wail of grief was drowned out by the thunder that crashed outside of the tower. The sky darkened, far too quickly even for a storm. Lightening flashed and the next wave of thunder was followed by a torrent of rain. Tony stared, not really comprehending the bloody scene in front of him. He felt sick with relief that the ragged, bubbling sound of Loki's labored breaths had stopped. They were too similar to how his own had been, shrapnel making blood fill his lungs and heart.

"What the hell?" he said under his breath. He couldn't quite bring himself to be louder in the face of Thor's grief.

"Loki, no. Brother," ragged sobs muffled Thor's words. He was clutching Loki to him, blood splayed out all around them. There was so much blood. Loki was limp in Thor's arms, and Tony could just make out empty green eyes. He swallowed, trying to keep back the sudden bile.

He looked away. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Save the world, defeat the bad guy, let Thor take him back home in chains. Sure, if the bad guy had gotten killed during the battle, Tony wouldn't have shed any tears. But this?

A noise beside him made Tony look at Clint. He was also staring blankly at the scene, face pale. Natasha was beside him, but not touching him. She kept stealing glances between Clint and Thor. Tony cast his gaze over the rest of the Avengers. Steve looked frozen in shock, wide-eyed. The Hulk had thumped down to sit, shrinking into Bruce. Bruce blinked blearily in Thor's direction before he slumped over, unconscious.

Transforming had to take a lot out of him, even if there should be no way Bruce should have enough energy to sustain the transformation without it killing him within a few minutes. He should really ask Bruce about it later -

A deafening clap of thunder jolted Tony out of his thoughts. Right, focusing on science problems wasn't going to work for ignoring the scene before him. Not for long, at least. Not nearly long enough to help.

The rain sounded ridiculously loud this high up, especially with the windows broken. Tony felt some of his nausea abate at that thought. Right, the fucker had thrown him out of a window. Who cared if he was dead? Who cared that he'd practically killed himself by ripping an arrow out of his _throat_ , blood spraying everywhere, all over him -

Thunder crashed again, mercifully distracting him from dwelling on the dripping slash of red over his armor ( _arterial spray, not a good look_ ). Great, a thunderstorm was _exactly_ what New York needed right now, what with all the people undoubtedly trapped and in need of rescue. Tony couldn't even recall if a storm had been forecast for today. Perhaps the weird portal had screwed with the weather. ( _Who was he trying to kid, it was definitely the grieving god of thunder's fault._ )

Natasha was whispering something to Clint, hand on his shoulder. Tony watched him take a shuddering breath, finally releasing the death grip he'd had on his bow.

"Is he dead?"

The question rang through the room like a gunshot.

"Barton," Steve hissed, snapped out of whatever stupor he'd been in. Clint shrugged, eyes hard and unapologetic. Tony couldn't exactly blame him for not caring about Loki, but the guy's brother was right there, sobbing over his corpse!

Without more of a reaction from Clint, Steve turned his attention to Thor.

"Thor?" Thor didn't react to the gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Let him go, Thor," Steve's voice was gentle, as he pulled Loki from Thor's grip. The only indication Thor heard him was in how he let it happen, let Steve slide Loki from his arms and place him on a part of floor that wasn't soaked in his blood or debris. There was depressingly little floor available within those parameters.

Tony swallowed past the lump in his throat and moved to help Thor stand up. The god leaned heavily on him, eyes trained on his brother. His breath kept hitching. With a glance at Thor, Natasha knelt down next to Loki. Carefully, she checked for a pulse, somehow managing to not get blood on her hands.

Her face showed no emotion when she finally closed Loki's eyes. But Thor crumpled against him with another wail and Tony staggered. Even with the suit's hydraulics, trying to hold Thor's weight up was difficult. Clint, however, sighed and relaxed, tension flowing out of him.

Thor paid him no heed, but moved to slump next to Loki's still form. Moving with such tenderness Tony wanted to look away, Thor pulled back a strand of Loki's hair. He carded his fingers through the blood soaked strands. It didn't matter that flakes of already drying blood and dirt stuck to them; Thor's hands were already completely covered in it.

"Oh brother," came Thor's broken whisper, "How has it come to this again?"

Again? Tony exchanged a glance with Steve, incredulous.

"He wanted it this way," Clint said.

"Barton!" Steve said, voice horrified. Thor looked up, face thunderous. Clint stared back at them both, unfazed.

"I do not blame you for loosing your arrow, friend Clint, for Loki attacked you, but do not dare to say -"

"What? That he pulled that arrow out of his _throat_?! He was in my head, he knew exactly what-"

Clint fell silent, clenching his jaw. He'd sounded just the tiniest bit hysterical there at the end. You'd think an assassin would be used to killing by now. Though, Tony granted, he couldn't imagine that many of his marks helped the killing along by ripping out an arrow out of their throat.

"He knew exactly what would happen," Clint continued, voice less fraught with emotion, "I was in his head too, a bit."

Tony blanched, unable to face the sudden devastation on Thor's face. It turned into a despaired sort of resignation ( _just like Bruce's on the Helicarrier_ ) that hurt to watch. Before, when Thor had told them he had thought Loki dead, the rest of them had thought Loki had just pulled a disappearing act. It looked like the truth was worse.

How had Loki survived his last attempt on his life, especially since his family thought him dead? What had prevented him from trying again? And why had he chosen to reappear at the head of an army claiming he wanted to rule the world just to try again at the end? Was it because he had lost? ( _Or because the fighting during the invasion itself hadn't done it?_ ) The only person now who could answer that was dead.

What a clusterfuck. Well, at least Fury would be happy the would be conqueror would never darken their doorstep again.

All the while Tony had been lost in his head, Thor had stared at Clint. Finally, a dark frown pulled at Thor's lips as he rose from beside Loki's body.

"I would have you speak of what you know," Thor said, pointing a finger at Clint. Natasha stepped forward.

"I don't think we need to do this no-"

"This is between myself and Clint Barton, Lady Romanoff," the leashed violence in Thor's glare gave her pause, but she did not move.

"It's alright, Tasha. I owe him this much at least," Clint said. She stepped aside. Clint gave her a weak smile and she nodded.

Thor hesitated and looked down at Loki, features twisting in an effort not to cry again. Steve stepped up, laying a hand on his arm.

"We'll watch him," he promised, "No one is going to touch him."

"My thanks," Thor said and looked to Clint once more, "Come."

He lead Clint away, visibly pushing the grief down and pulling his dignity together about him like a well worn cloak.

It took hours for them to return, Thor looking grim and severe and Clint looking drained. He shook his head at them to forestall any of their questions. Clint marched to the bar and proceeded to chug Tony's best scotch straight from the bottle. Tony winced, but let him have it.

Thor paid no attention to their byplay and made straight for Loki. He took off his cape and removed the blanket Tony had found to cover up Loki's body. Gently, oh so gently, he proceeded to wrap the red cape around Loki's form. All they could do was watch.

* * *

Thor left mere hours later, Loki's form clutched tightly to his chest with one hand, the container with the Tesseract in the other. He said not a word to them as he departed. No thanks, no condemnation and no affirmation of his oaths to protect this planet.

Thor never returned.

 **END**


End file.
